Hope Unlooked For
by Zeelee
Summary: *New ch. here* This is the fic where I put my two favorite characters together. What will Eowyn do when she does not find death? Who will she turn to?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not a bloody thing._  
_Author's Notes: Sorry purists, but I have to take Faramir out of this one. But how else am I going to get my two favorite characters together without adultery? Actually, there's an idea.... But anyway, we'll just assume that in this story, Faramir died with his daddy, or something like that. Oh, and if you haven't read all three books DO NOT READ THIS!!!! Because a) you will have no clue what is going on, and b) it will spoil the 3rd book for you. _  
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**  
  
  
Hope Unlooked For  
Prologue: The Dream**_  
  
  
  
I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.  
-Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan  
  
_  
  


  
Everything was black. There was no sound; no smells, no tastes. Then a blood red sun slowly rose, to shine its rays on a horrible scene: Orcs streamed across Rohan, killing anything in their path and making the ground scream beneath their feet. The Entwash and the Anduin ran red with blood. Riders of Rohan fought and were killed, their bodies desecrated and tortured. Hama, the guard stood with a yell and charged the orcs. They ran him through and decapitated him.   
Éowyn screamed, and looked around frantically for her sword. But to her horror, she was not in Meduseld, but trapped, trapped in a domestic hut, where a withered husband and children layed about inside, calling for their supper. Instead of armor she wore a dress; instead of a sword she carried a cooking pan.   
The hobbits Merry and Pippin were surrounded by orcs. They fought back with their short swords, but the orcs only laughed as they slew them.   
As she watched, transfixed with horror and fear, Aragorn raced forward, flanked on either side by the dwarf and the elf. The dwarf was beheaded with his own axe; the elf run through by three different swords. The Lord Aragorn fought hard, but he stumbled, and was lost underneath the orcs that leapt upon him. Éowyn sobbed, but how could she help him? She was trapped, trapped in this cage of domesticality; she had no weapons; she was helpless to defend him or herself.   
Then the most horrible sight of all: Éomer, riding hard against the orcs, a fell warrior with a fell cry, but he could not stand against the orcs. They pulled him from his horse and fell upon his body.  
Éowyn gave an anguished cry and ran forward, forgetting that she had no weapons to defend herself. For there, on that hill, stood the one whom she had cared for and looked up to as a father all her life: Théoden king. She must stand by him, even if it lead to her death!  
But even as she ran forward, Théoden's horse, Snowmane, reeled and threw its rider to the ground; and Éowyn heard his dying cries.   
She fell to her knees, unable to stand. she cried in anguish. Theoden king! Eomer, dearest of all brothers! _Aragorn!_  
Then the orcs surrounded her, and she felt her heart clench like an iron fist. But she staggered to her feet, determined to face them at least standing; and then He came. It was Him, the foul king of the Nazgül! Éowyn saw her death in its malicious form, and she quailed, and fell to the ground; but it seemed then that some far off voice called to her: Éowyn, Emund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away! and the fell Nazgül's shape wavered, like it were an illusion; but Éowyn could not follow the voice, and it disappeared, and she was left still in this nightmarish world. But then the voice came again, stronger this time: Awake, Éowyn, Lady of Rohan! Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean! And it seemed then that a hand was stretched out to her, and that she must grasp it; but her fingers seemed cold and numb, and she could not. Then, of all wonders, her brother's face appeared, and called to her: Éowyn, Éowyn! And the look on his face was so sad and desperate, that Éowyn reached out her hand to brush his tears away; and then, at last, she awoke.  
  


  
  
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Well? What do you think? Keep in mind, this is only the prologue. Please, please review!


	2. Chapter 1: Lost at Sea

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not a bloody thing.  
Notes: For those that haven't figured it out, the prologue was when Eowyn was dreaming, when she was sick at the houses of healing, after killing the bad guy.  
Reviews are good for the soul, people.  
  
  
  


**Hope Unlooked For  
Chapter 1: Lost at Sea  
  
**_But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?  
-Gandalf the Grey, speaking of Éowyn_  
  
  
  


Take note of that lady, Ioreth said to her cousin, Look how proud and tall she sits, as if she would defy Sauron himself! You know, it is said that, on the battlefield she took with her her halfling esquire and defeated an entire legion of orcs all by herself? The White Lady of Rohan, she is called. Look at her, cousin, look at her!  
  
Éowyn listened with half an ear to the women's talk. How they prattled so! She would not mind so much if she were allowed to breathe fresh air, but here their idle speech grated on her ears.  
  
Dread was buried deep inside her body, and burrowing still further. She had escaped death only to live in a dying world with a heavy heart. She felt she was only healed in body; her spirit felt haunted by some malicious demon.  
  
The Dream. She had awakened from it three nights ago; yet still it lay heavy on her thoughts. She could not think of it without shuddering.  
  
And it seemed, now, that she had awoken to find the dream was reality: For her brother, and Aragorn, and ll others that could fight were marching to a war which could not possibly be won. Eomer had been cheerful for her sake when he explained their plans; but he knew that his armies hoped only to distract The Enemy. They were marching to death, and Éowyn was trapped in this domestic hut with no weapons, forced to wait helpless until The Enemy came for her, just as her dream had foretold.  
  
With a frustrated sigh, she got up and climbed the stairs that lead to a small courtyard. Here, at least, she could smell fresh air. And yet this air only increased her dread: the very air smelled of war and death. The sky seemed sick and lifeless, and all seemed lost; she could smell and feel it in the air. The Ring had been found, and The Dark Lord had won. She could see him now, in the form of a great black man riding on a fell bird. Fire was all round, and the darkness would take them all!  
  
Only the guard in the courtyard saw Éowyn fall. He ran forward with a cry, and others joined him to support the lady. Her face was deathly pale, except for two burning red spots on her cheeks; sweat was gathered on her brow. The Lady is delirious, the guard said. See now: though her eyes are open, she sees us not-she walks in the Dreamworld.  
  


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Darkness. Then ... wisps of grey cloud. Fell voices on the wind. Theoden is dead... Eomer is dying.... You have failed... No!  
  
Brilliant colors. Flashing. A babe's cry. The white tower of Minas Tirith. The black tower of Orthanc. A halfling with a sword. A giant spider. Help us!  
  
No. Yes. No. No. No. Everything dissolving into one image. She couldn't see. She couldn't see. She couldn't see!  
  


****  
  
  


Ioreth watched with concern as Éowyn cried out in her dream. She had seemed to be recovering, she had gotten up and walked around. But now, she was asleep, and crying out in fear.  
  
Ah, well. Perhaps it was only an ordinary nightmare, that anyone might get in sleep. Ioreth went back to work.  
  


****  
  
  


_The ring is destroyed. The Dark Lord is defeated. My dearest friends are still alive. I should be happy, _Éowyn thought. It was a fortnight later, the day that Aragorn was to be wed to Arwen Evenstar. As Éowyn watched them she felt sadness uncurl inside her. They had each other..... Éowyn had no one. No one but the cold voices in her head.  
Damn him. Damn him. He had left her, scorned her love when all she wanted was to help him, protect him; and yet still she yearned for those grey eyes to look at her and her alone, to finally understand her and erase her nightmares. But his eyes saw only the lady Arwen.  
As everyone was cheering the union, Aragorn looked up, and met Éowyn's eyes, cold and hard as ice. Éowyn did not flinch, and after some time Aragorn flinched and looked away.  
Some hours after the wedding, Éowyn left the banquet chamber, and wandered the courtyards. She heard a step behind her, and turned-it was Aragorn. He looked kingly indeed.  
She turned away. What do you want, my lord?  
To talk with you.  
About what, my lord?  
You know what.  
I am afraid I do not, my lord. Her voice would have frozen Hell.  
Behind her she could hear the king sigh. Éowyn, be not so formal with me. Call me by my name, not by my lord'.  
As you wish.  
He took a few steps closer to her. Will you not come into the feast?  
She turned towards him. Why should I? There is nothing for me there.  
Eowyn, the Ring is destroyed. Your enemies are defeated. What cause, then, have you for sorrow?  
She laughed bitterly. What cause for sorrow? What cause for happiness? Why should I laugh and pretend to be merry so that you and your fellows can be more comfortable? I will not keep up the charade that I am well.  
Tell me, then, why you are not well.  
If you would have the honest answer, you are half the reason, my king. All I asked was to fight alongside you, to protect you. And you scorned me for a woman-you claimed my place was beside the hearth, not on the field. And you think that still-you think that it was a mere chance that bade me kill the Nazgül king, and mere chance that I am not dead. Do you not?  
Aragorn was silent. Then he sighed again. You were pitted against a foe that was beyond any of us, including yourself. That I believe. And you use your dead opponent as an excuse to hang back and become bitter; and for that I pity you-  
She slapped him, hard. He reeled back, shock naked on his face. You pity me, Aragorn? she said acidly. I do not want your pity, nor the pity of any man. Who are you to say that I use my opponent as an excuse to wallow about in depression? You do not know what goes on behind my thoughts, nor does any man. You think, also, that I am driven into rage for love of you; but you are wrong. Oh, I love you, Aragorn-but I hate you more. And I will never weep for you again. And then she turned and disappeared into the night.


	3. Chapter 2: Wanderlust

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
Author's Notes: Those that reviewed, thank you! Those that didn't, you can still redeem yourself by reviewing this next chapter. : ) This next chapter takes place when everyone's gone home, and Eomer and Eowyn have gone back to Rohan. And don't worry, I will definitely NOT kill Eowyn. As for what happens with her and Aragorn, well, you'll just have to read on, won't you?  
  
  


**  
  
Hope Unlooked For  
Chapter 2: Wanderlust  
  
**_"I have thrown myself on the world... I must either conquer or die- succeed or be disgraced."  
-Edgar A. Poe  
_**  
_  
  
_**

How goes it, sister? I would think you would be happy, for the darkness has passed on at last. Why are you so disheartened?  
Eomer, I feel as if I do not know myself. Evil nightmares still plague my sleep, and I cannot feel at home here.  
This is the place where we were both born, sister. If this is not your home, what is?  
I do not know-perhaps the grave, now, is my home. I never should have survived my battle with the ghost king. Perhaps I can only feel at peace now in a grave.  
Speak not so! You are young yet-it is not your time. And woud you have the people of Rohan lose the fairest thing in this land? For if we could not look upon your beautiful face, much sorrow would come upon this land.  
I do not care for this land as much as I did; and I would not shy from the grave for their sake. But you, Eomer-I would not cause you sorrow for anything. For your sake I will continue this pretense of living.  
Must it be a pretense? Look around you, dearest sister! There is so much joy and beauty to be had in this life! Will you not partake in it?  
I would, if I could. But ever something holds me back-ever there is a shadow on my mind, that I cannot live.  
Is it the fault of the king in Gondor that you are so unhappy? If that be so, and he hath caused you sorrow, I will seek him out and smite him.  
Nay-I would not have you smite so dear a friend for my sake. And anyhow, I do not think of him much; I thought myself in love with him, and he gave me only pity-and for that I hated him. But now ..... now I can feel nothing for him. He is not the cause of my condition, brother.  
Then what is?  
I do not know; but I feel I cannot stay here. I must go away from this place, with all its fell memories; I must travel, and hope to find some solace in movement.  
Where will you go, then, sister?  
To the North-perhaps I will visit The Shire and that good halfling Meriadoc, or maybe to Rivendell-it is said that people can find much healing in that place.  
And will you ever come back?  
I do not know-but I know I will see you again, Eomer. I would seek you out even if all the world was in shadow, and every obstacle lay between us. I love you, my brother.  
And I love you, dearest Éowyn. Would that I could slay this shadow that lies upon you!  
Would that _I_ could, brother.  
  


****  
  


The day had come at last for Éowyn's departure. She had spoken only to Eomer of where she was going, and even he did not know for sure. He looked into his sister's eyes, and they were the same as always: blue, intense, proud-but now there seemed to be a sheet of ice over them, and they were shadowed and haunted. He kissed her brow and held her close, and she seemed so frail in his arms that he wanted to weep. Will you not reconsider, Éowyn?  
I will not. I would that I could stay here, but alas, it is a hated place for me. I cannot wander these halls without remembering the foul words of Grima, and times when I walked proudly and was not merely a shadow of my former self. But for you, brother, I think I would have gone completely into darkness-and I will never forget that. Oh, would that times were younger, and we rode together again over the fields of Rohan, the proudest in all the land with not a care in the world! And then they both wept long, clinging to each other with great sorrow, for each feared that they would never see the other again.  
And then Éowyn stepped back, and kissed her brother fiercely. Then she turned away, calling to her horse, and rode off towards the north. Eomer did not move, but stood watching her until she was merely a fading speck on the horizon, and then nothing. Even then he still stood looking North, until the sun's rays disappeared and twilight came. Then he turned, and all that looked upon him thought he looked aged beyond his years, for his back was stooped and his eyes were heavy.  
Éowyn rode for many hours, until she made camp on the shores of the great Anduin. Her mind seemed to be awash with conflicting feelings: She was bitter with love for her brother, and she knew that he was thinking of her. And yet-she was a shieldmaiden, a warrior. There seemed to be a tiny flame kindling in her heart, a flame of adventure, for she had never been this far north-who knew what she might find? 


	4. Chapter 3: North

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: A few of you have expressed thanks for not putting romance into it. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that will come in eventually (I think-with my weird imagination, you can never be too sure). I'm not sure if it will be the classic they lived happily ever after' ending, though-basically, I do not know how Éowyn's going to end up, except that she doesn't commit suicide. Suggestions (but not obstinate demands) are very welcome! Oh, and of course many thanks to you wonderful reviewers!**  
**

  
  
  
  
Hope Unlooked For  
Chapter 3: North  
  
_  
[I fear] a cage, to stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.  
-Éowyn, The White Lady of Rohan_  
  
  
  


Éowyn rode her horse Endumiel, at an easy pace. The mare was steady of foot and capable of great speed, but Éowyn did not want to gallop. She was content to trot along, admiring the great river and the abundance of nature in every shape and form that grew along the shore. It was incredibly beautiful: the lush trees, the overgrown grasses, the birds that sang so sweetly. And yet she saw none of it.  
  
She was clad in leggings and a tunic, which concealed the light mail she wore underneath. A sword and two daggers were fixed to her belt;hard boots adorned her feet. Over all she wore a great green cloak with a hood that fell forward to cover her face.   
  
She journeyed on Endumiel's back for many days, and grew stranger with each step her horse took. It seemed that her condition grew better, that she was healing, for she thought of her sorrows less and less; they seemed far away, part of another, stranger world that did not concern her. And yet, as she travelled further and further from her home, she seemed less and less Herself: when she looked at her reflection, it was a stranger looking back at her, a stranger with her same face in her clothes, but a stranger nonetheless. Her heart was twisted with bitterness and strange thoughts, and her mind was alien to her. She rode on in silent agony, and yet felt better with every step Endumiel took farther away from Meduseld. Her heart was light and heavy at the same time; she felt both good and ill. Gradually she came to forget most everything from her own home-she could hardly even remember her brother, except as a faraway name, of no interest to her. The only part of her old life that seemed real was her love/hatred for Aragorn, and that was no comfort, for thinking of him brought only pain. Despite her scorn of him on his wedding night, she could not erase his face from her mind, and she thought of him at all times, especially at night, when the stars seemed to shine bright enough as to penetrate her very being.  
  
And so it was that The White Lady of Rohan travelled, going North all the time, moving as if dead. After some time (whether it be many months or a few hours, she could not tell), she came across a small lake-a pond, really-in the middle of a vast forest. She went to its edge, for she was thirsty, and the water was clean. She looked at her reflection, and it seemed to lie: for staring back at her was a beautiful woman, looking fair and kind in both face and spirit-and Éowyn knew this was not her, it could not be her-the soul she now carried inside was neither fair nor kind. With sudden resolve, she drew her sword from its sheath, and, holding her hair out long in front of her, made two quick strokes, and saw a mass of golden hair fall to the forest floor. Encouraged, she cut again, watching with bated breath as her golden locks, praised by all in Rohan, fell to be one with the many leaves and other dead matte on the forest floor. Now, as she looked back at her reflection, it suited her temperament much better: the lack of hair seemed to make her eyes stand out more, two burning bright spots in her otherwise haggard and pale face. Her hair fell to just past her earlobes, and was not cut cleanly at all. She looked like a young boy, a starving boy who had been in the wild for many years. Such was her nature then.  
  


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Mirkwood. The place had a strange feeling to it, not really of malice, more of enormity, as if it were so large and dense that no one could ever have a hope of passing through it. Éowyn, growing up next to Fangorn, was a bit prepared for this, but the mighty forest still sent chills through her body. She would have to be very, very careful that she did not lose her way. She entered the outskirts of the huge wood very cautiously, for the forces of good had not had enough time to clear all traces of evil from this forest, and she knew that Sauron had once had a mighty fortress here; so she was watchful.  
  
When she was arrived in a clearing, some strange sense made her halt Endumiel. The horse was nervous, fidgety-strange for a beast normally so calm. Something was here, watching her, she knew it. Frowning, she quickly drew her sword. Endumiel saved her life, leaping forward as five orc arrows whistled out of the trees, aimed at the place Éowyn and her mount had been standing. Endumiel's quick thinking saved both their lives.  
  
Yanking a knife from her boot, she threw it in the direction the arrows had come from, and was rewarded with a shriek of pain. Rearing her horse, Éowyn charged into the forest, as orcs surged out to meet her. There were many, but she was still ahorse, and fury gave her strength. With a cry she locked swords with one orc while Endumiel gave a great neigh and lashed out with her hooves. Éowyn beheaded the orc, turning around to run through another. So intent was she on the fight that she did not see the orcs waiting in the treetops until it was too late: one of them saw its chance and leapt on her back, falling to the ground and taking her with him. Éowyn lay half on the ground and half off, for her foot was still stuck in Endumiel's stirrup, and her assailant leapt to his feet with a feral cry, lifting his primitive blade high-  
  


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Don't you just love cliff-hangers?


	5. Chapter 4: Guest

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: Sorry, this chapter took me forever to finish! It is very long, isn't it? Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing, you people are wonderful and totally make my day!  
  
  


**Hope Unlooked For  
Chapter 4: Guest  
  
  
**_Yes, tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,  
'T were better than the cold reality  
Of waking life."  
-Edgar A. Poe_  
  
  
  


Her assailant leapt to his feet with a feral cry, lifting his primitive blade high-  
  
And fell with a shriek of fury, three arrows in his back. Éowyn did not pause to wonder at this, but picked up her sword and heaved herself back into the saddle. She cut and blocked automatically, fighting with the ferocity and single-mindedness of a machine. She could not afford to rest even half a second-there were too many orcs.  
  
The part of her mind that held itself aloof from the rest of her noticed that elves had surged into the clearing, hacking down orcs with ferocious battle cries; orc arrows and elven arrows flew between the trees. But Éowyn could not stop to think, or be grateful-ever there were more orcs, surrounding her and hacking at her with their foul swords. There were too many of them!  
  
She suppressed a cry of fear as a sword narrowly missed her head. _Mayhap this is my time to die,_ she found the far-off part of her mind wondering. _If that is so, I am not afraid: let me die in honor, with as many of my enemy slain as is possible. He that battles with Éowyn Eomund's Daughter will not emerge unscathed!_ And she leapt forward again, with a terrifying battle cry not unlike her brother's.  
  
She did not know how long the fight lasted; but after many orcs and elves had been slain, a large orc screeched a command, and the demons disappeared as quickly as they'd come. The elves drew off to a corner of the clearing, conferring among themselves; Éowyn dismounted and brought her horse under the shade of a huge tree, catching her breath at last and whispering praises to her horse, her wonderful smart horse that had saved her life.  
  
After a while, an elf with long blonde hair and fair features came apart to talk with her. Who are you, sir? he said. Friend or foe, and what are you doing in this forest?  
  
That distant part of her mind recognized the sir': he thought she was a man, with her hair cut so short. I am a friend, she said, keeping her voice low, merely passing through this forest. I mean you no harm.  
What is your name, and whence have you come?  
I have journeyed here from Rohan, far south of here. My name is ..... Dernhelm. If he could not guess her sex, she would not enlighten him.  
  
The elf went back to his comrades, discussing her in soft voices. After a while, he came back to her, and spoke again. I am Legolas son of Thranduil, he said. As Prince of this realm, I invite you to stay with us as a guest. Do you accept?  
  
Éowyn almost reeled backwards when she heard his name. He had been one of those travelling with Lord Aragorn! Why had she not recognized him? In this forest, his home, he had a light kindling in his eye, and his face was much merrier than when she had last seen it. Now that she had heard his name she could easily recognize him. But he had not recognized her.  
  
He was still waiting for an answer. Do I have a choice, Prince Legolas? she said, still careful to keep her voice low.  
  
You will surely become lost in this forest if you do not come with us. None (save the elves) can navigate it without being lost, even if he were the greatest tracker and explorer.  
  
Then I accept, and I thank you, prince.  
  


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Éowyn surveyed her surroundings. These elves were very courteous: the room they had given her was luxurious, and she knew they would take good care of Endumiel.  
  
She still kept the pretense of being male. She wanted these people to treat her as a warrior, not as a maiden-she had received far too much of that treatment in Rohan and Gondor. She wanted to be free of all titles and reminders of her former life here; she wanted to be no one but herself in this house.  
  
She liked these elvenfolk: they were strange, but not alien. They seemed to be both merry and grim at the same time, much like her kinsfolk at home, and the respect they had for their trees was not unlike the respect the people of Rohan had for their horses: both were born of a great and deep love that could not be easily broken.  
  
And it was good to talk with Legolas, someone who had been there and seen the battle of Pelennor Fields, even if he did not know who she was, what she had done on that field. It lightened her heart just to see his face, for he reminded her so much of her home-he reminded her so much of Herself.  
  
And yet, even as she stood thinking happy thoughts, the Shadow was ever there beside her. She closed her eyes, and could see it on her closed eyelids: a great, cold hand that reached forward to take out her soul. Éowyn shuddered, and for a second she was in the midst of that horrible dream again, helpless, forced to watch her friends and kinsmen die. Damn you, she whispered to this formless thing that lay curled up about her heart. Go to torment someone else, and prithee leave me in peace! In return she received only silent laughter.  
  
Tears laying unshed on her eyes, she sat down on the bed. She would never be free of it; even in this beautiful house it still held her captive. She was a slave to the tortures of her own mind.  


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Legolas stared thoughtfully at the young man Dernhelm. He was sitting at the table opposite the one the elf sat at, and to all appearances the young man was enjoying himself greatly. He was laughing, and talking jovially with elves seated next to him. And yet there was a shadow over him, it seemed to Legolas-his actions were very guarded and cautious, as if he were being careful not to give away any secrets. And there was a veil, it seemed, over his face: he was always merry, but never too merry, and he never let his face show any surprise or expression that was not expected of him. _He is wary of us,_ Legolas thought. _And he will not be himself in our home yet._  
  
Legolas frowned as he stared at the lad. Dernhelm! The name was familiar, very familiar, as was the face. Had Dernhelm been some friend of Eomer's or Aragorn's, perhaps? No, they had never mentioned anyone by that name. Maybe Legolas had met this warrior of Rohan on the battlefield? But no, he was certain that he had not seen that face whilst at war.   
  
After a few hours, Dernhelm stood up and excused himself, walking out to the balcony. Legolas, not knowing quite why, stood up and followed him.   
  
I hope you find things to your liking in my home, sir? Legolas said.  
  
Dernhelm turned around to face him, and smiled. They are very much to my liking, Legolas. Your hospitality leaves nothing to be desired.  
  
Then why do you leave our table early, instead of staying to talk with us?  
  
Dernhelm sighed and looked away. I am-heavy of heart. It is no fault of yours that drives me away, I assure you-I merely needed to think, away from such merry company.  
  
What is it you must think on?  
  
The man did not answer at first, but stood looking South, an expression of longing on his face. Legolas wondered what he had left behind him in Rohan-a wife, perhaps, or lover? But now he was speaking. I was at the battle of Pelennor Fields-my lord forbade me to fight, but I disguised myself and fought anyway, for I did not wish to leave my king's side. Once there, I-I fought an enemy so great, so terrible, so- he shuddered and turned away. I defeated him, but even now his shadow lies heavy upon my soul. He turned to Legolas and his eyes were full of pain. I was wounded so heavily that day, and though my body did recover, my soul did not. I walked encased in a dark shadow, and I had to leave my home, for it housed evil memories. But it is no different travelling-I am sick at heart. I have wandered for, I know not how long, searching for something, I know not what- He stopped, and looked south again, his face clouded in thought.  
  
Perhaps you are searching for hope, said Legolas. Dernhelm started and turned back to him, as if he'd forgotten the elf existed; and again, Legolas felt certain that he had seen this man before.  
  
said Dernhelm. Hope is a fickle friend; I have no love for that particular weakness, and I do not search for it. But peace, perhaps, would not be an ill thing to search for; peace and honor, then, are the things that I would hope to find on this quest of sorts-the peace and honor that come with death.  
  
There was a silence. Then: Is death, then, your destination?  
  
If I cannot find peace any other way, yes, I would gladly die than carry this shadow for the rest of my life. You do not know what a burden it is, just to breathe each day with a monster astride your chest. Dernhelm's eyes were dark for a moment, and then he laughed, and said, But come! Such words are ugly in this fair house. I should not burden your fair ears with such thoughts!  
  
Legolas smiled. My ears are not so fair that they cannot stoop to listen to a friend in need. Do not regret that you burdened me with your words. Come, feast and be merry!  
  
Dernhelm smiled sadly. Nay-I am tired now, and will retire to my chambers (_Where had he seen this man before?) _But I thank you. Then Dernhelm turned, and vanished into the shadows, leaving Legolas confused and with much food for thought.


	6. Chapter 5: Disguises Falling

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: You reviewers are so awesome! I really hope I can live up to your expectations!  
  


**  
Hope Unlooked For  
Chapter 5: Disguises Falling  
  
**_Chaos, is what she saw in the mirror   
Scared of herself and the power that was in her   
It took over   
And weighed heavy on her shoulder   
Militant insanity is now what controlled her  
-Revenge, Papa Roach  
  
_

**  
**Many days passed under that great forest, and still Éowyn was held in that terrible place between despair and happiness. During the day, she forgot herself: she was Éowyn no longer, but Dernhelm, a merry warrior with no shadow upon him. She was able to talk, and laugh, and appear normal.  
  
But at night ..... at night the demon came. She remembered who she was, she remembered the pain and torment that gnawed at her heart. When she did sleep, nightmares always plagued her; but most times she could not find sleep, and had to wander the halls until dawn came.  
  
One night, whilst wandering the halls she came across Legolas. She ran into him, for tears had blinded her vision that night, and she burned herself on the candle he bore. Hastily she retreated into the shadows, so he might not look upon her tear stained face.   
  
Who is it? Who's there? Legolas said, his voice wary.  
  
It is only I-Dernhelm. You need not fear me.  
  
Legolas relaxed. Dernhelm? What are you doing, wandering the halls so late?  
  
Nay-what are _you_ doing? Why are you sneaking about?   
  
I am not sneaking about, I am walking to my room. Now Dernhelm, answer my question.  
  
Éowyn sighed. I could not sleep, she said shortly, and turned to go.  
  
he caught her shoulder and turned her towards the light. He caught only a glimpse of her face, streaked with tears, before she ducked back into the darkness. She turned around and ran, her footsteps echoing in the silent halls.   
  
Legolas stood still, confounded by the sight of tears. Was his guest really so tormented? And there was something else: In the candle light, he looked different, not like the Dernhelm of the day. There had been something incredibly different about his face, something almost-vulnerable, or wounded. No, that was not it-the difference was not something Legolas could put a name to. But he had almost remembered who Dernhelm was, and he was sure that if Dernhelm had stayed in the light but a second longer, he would have recognised him. But that remembrance was lost, and Legolas was left alone, standing in the hall.   
  
After that encounter, Éowyn was more careful during her nightly walks. Though she knew Legolas searched for her in the nightly hours, she avoided him with all her skill. But she could not avoid him in the day, and she did not particularly want to: he was kind to her, and she knew, somehow, that she could confide her troubles to him. And he sought her out daily, always wanting to speak to her. He followed her constantly with his eyes, with his eyes narrowed, as if trying to solve her mystery.   
  
But she did not allow herself to get close to him. She knew he wanted to help her, but she would not let him. Only pain could come of it; she _must_ bear this burden on her own. It was for that reason partly that she had left Eomer-she knew what pain it was for both of them, to see each other: he so concerned, and she so pained.   
  
Éowyn knew Legolas was close to finding out her identity, and she knew she must leave son-for she did not want him or anyone to know who she was. Somehow she knew that if Legolas discovered her identity, things would never be the same: she would go over that precipice, and whether to happiness or final despair she did not know, and was terrified to find out.  
  


****  
  


Legolas watched his strange guest with narrowed eyes. Damn him! Where had he seen this man before? Was it on the battlefield? No, he had not had time to get close to any Riders on the field. Was it at Meduseld, then, or during the celebrations after the final victory they had met? No, Legolas had not seen Dernhelm's face at either occasion.  
  
Perhaps one of his friends had mentioned the name to him-they had known the Rohirrim better than he had. Yes; that sounded right. Legolas racked his brain, trying to think of who had mentioned the name Dernhelm to him-and then he gasped shortly, remembering distinctly the name leaving Merry's lips, as he told Legolas of how he had ridden to Minas Tirith. But there was more. Damn it all, what else was there to remember?! Something about Dernhelm.....and disguises......  
  
Legolas jerked up his head and stared at Éowyn, for he could see now plainly who it was. _The White Lady of Rohan!_ he thought to himself. _But she is so much changed!_ It was easy to see why Legolas had not recognized her: her golden hair had faded almost to white, and was shorn to just beneath her ears; her blue eyes were more grey now than blue, the result of many tears; and there seemed to be an opaque mask over her face, that had been worn all her time in Mirkwood; indeed, the only time Legolas had seen the real she was when they had met, in the hall, and his lantern had for a second shone on her face.  
  
He stared at her throughout most of the meal, trying not to be obvious when doing so. She was still beautiful, but in a more desparaging, wretched way. She looked as if her heart had been broken one too many times, and the pieces were beyond all mending.   
  
At last she stood up and exited the banquet hall, and Legolas hastily followed her. As she was walking down the hall to her room, he called out, Éowyn Eomund's Daughter, Lady of Rohan! She stopped dead; the only sound that could be heard was their harsh breathing.  
  
He swallowed, suddenly unsure. For is that not your name?  
  
She turned towards him, her eyes open wide and her lips parted, looking haunted by some dark demon. Her voice was nothing but a cracked whisper. I have heard that name before. Yes, I suppose I did go by that name, long ago; but am I still she? I know not. I know not! She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in pain.  
  
I believe you are still Éowyn. Legolas felt afraid to even breathe, as if by breathing too loud he could frighten this creature and scare her back into hiding.  
  
Am I? Am I, Legolas? She turned her back to him. So much has happened since last I was called that name. It brings back nothing but evil memories-why should you call me that now? I am Éowyn no longer; you have no right to call me by it, or meddle in my affairs! Her voice rose in anger, but then she stopped, and a shudder ran through her. I am lost in the world, Legolas, she said, her voice quiet again. Lost, and I can never be found! She turned towards him blindly, and he caught her up in his arms; and they were both crying, weeping silently, not knowing and not caring what they were doing. Then Legolas was kissing her head, her brow, her cheeks; and she was kissing him back, kissing him in a desperate fear, as if he was her last lifeline in a stormy sea. They never did part, but spent the night in each other's arms, and for the first time in who knows how long The White Lady of Rohan slept peacefully.  
  


****  
  
Note: this is not finished yet! Not finished at all!


	7. Chapter 6: Leaving

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: My god, this took me forever! I'm sorry, I guess I just temporarily ran out of inspiration for this story. But it's back now!  
  
  


**Chapter 6: Leaving  
**  
_The course of true love never did run smooth.  
-Lysander from Midsummer's Night Dream, by William Shakespeare  
  
  
_

The Dream. Still it haunted her, each night slightly different, and yet still exactly the same.   
Tonight she was standing on a hilltop, watching, helpless in horror, as Legolas battled with orcs in the field below. He was terribly brave, but he was one against fifty. As Éowyn watched, two orcs passed their swords through his heart, and he fell to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. With an evil laugh, a huge orc stepped forward, and Legolas' decapitated head rolled down the hillside.  
Éowyn screamed. She screamed again and again, falling to her knees, knowing that the orcs were advancing towards her, but not hearing them or seeing them, only hearing her own voice, a high screeching wail-  
She gasped and sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide and her brow damp with sweat. A body beside her stirred, and she looked down to see Legolas, sleeping beside her.   
She gazed at his fair face long and hard, memorizing every detail of his sleeping form. Then, not waking him, she rose from his side.  
  


****  
  


Legolas awoke several hours after dawn. He was immediately awake, and immediately concerned-where was Éowyn? She had slept in his bed last night, but was not beside him. He pondered this, but decided that she had probably risen earlier and was either in her chambers or in the banquet hall.   
He left his rooms and made his way over to the hall her bedroom was in. He knocked on the door, calling her name softly. Frowning, he opened the door-she was not inside. And her things were gone.  
Legolas felt a shiver run through him. A hand of ice clutched at his heart, and his breath came fast. He ran through the palace, asking every elf he met where Dernhelm had gone, but no one could answer him.  
At last he came to the stables, to see two elves-Elnar and Keranon-unsaddling their horses and talking to each other. Elnar caught sight of Legolas and beckoned to him. Legolas! Why are you running so hard? Calm yourself!  
Elnar! Elnar where is the lady-the lord Dernhelm?   
Surprise crossed Elnar's face. Why, I thought you knew! Dernhelm left last night!  
Legolas' face blanched white.   
He left Mirkwood in the middle of the night, and Keranon and I escorted him out of this forest. We asked if you or the king had given leave, for we know he could not leave without your knowledge, and he said he had bade you farewell. He lied, then?  
Legolas stared at the elf, not hearing his words, not seeing his face. She had left him. She had left him, and that left him dead.


	8. Chapter 7: Tidings

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: I. HATE. WRITER'S BLOCK! I am so sorry that it took me so long, and I'm sorry that this is so short, but it's something, right?   
  
  
  


**Chapter 7: Tidings  
  
**_I wouldn't have sold myself short,  
I wouldn't have kept my eyes on the ground  
If I had've known my invisibility  
would not make a difference.  
-Alanis Morissette_  
  
  


The afternoon sun dipped beneath the horizon as a lone messenger rode across the fields of Rohan. He had ridden far, and looked eagerly forward to the hospitality of Meduseld.   
He reached the gates of the palace, and the guards let him in. When he reached the main hall, he was not surprised at the gasps and murmers of the various courtiers-elves were not usually seen in Rohan. The king's face remained stoic, however; and his face did not change until he read the letter the elf had brought:  
  
  
_To Lord Éomer, King of Rohan:  
Greetings from Mirkwood. I will not bother with polite formalities-I seek to know only one thing: Have you heard tidings from your sister, the lady Éowyn?  
Six moons ago she dwealt in my home here in Mirkwood. Five moons ago she abruptly departed, I know not to where, and we have had no word from her since. I greatly desire speech with her; if she dwells with you, will you not beseech her to at least send me word of her safety? I have waited five months for word from her, and she has sent me nothing. I can wait no longer; I must know of her whereabouts. If she has not returned home yet, than I must implore you to aid me in searching for her. I am fearful that she hath come across some evil fate, and even if she refuses to speak to me or send a message, it would ease my mind to know of her safety.  
  
Yours,  
Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood  
  
_  
Éomer's stoic face was at once alight with expression. He sprang to his feet with a cry: Joyous be this day! People of Rohan, after waiting over a year for news of our princess, the Lady Éowyn, we have at last received tidings! A company of fifteen riders, meet me immediately at the gates with enough to carry you for a long journey; squire, ready my horse and traveling gear. The king turned to the message-bearer, grasping his hand heartily, with tears in his eyes. Words cannot tell how joyous your message is to our entire country, great friend. Bring this message to your prince: Though the lady Éowyn has not returned, your tidings bring Rohan great joy. We are riding north at once to search for her, and we thank you a thousand times for your happy news of Éowyn's whereabouts.' Get a meal and a good night's rest under your belt, and then go, with haste.  
  



	9. Chapter 8: Old Friends

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.  
A/N: I will finish this! If I have to write till I'm fucking 90, I PROMISE I WILL FINISH THIS!!! HAVE HOPE!!!  
  
  
  


**Hope Unlooked For**  
**Chapter 5: Old Friends  
**_  
  
  
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon  
And if there is no room upon the hill  
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too  
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.  
-Pink Floyd_  


  
  
The night was young; a full moon shone on The Prancing Pony Inn, and Barliman Butterbur readied himself to confront the nightly crowd of rabble-rousers. A tall, cloaked figure came through the door, dressed for riding, with a sword at his side. Barliman thought he had the look of a ranger to him.  
And what might I do for you, sir? he asked the figure.  
I seek the hobbit Meriadoc Brandybuck, who goes by the name of Merry. Do you know of his whereabouts?  
Barliman frowned, for it seemed strange that a battle worn man would be asking after a hobbit, even one so famous as Merry. You're looking for Meriadoc _Brandybuck?_  
Is that not what I said, innkeeper? His voice was harsh and cross.  
Barliman scratched his head. Well, I believe you'll find that hobbit up in Brandybuck, in the Shire-although who knows, he travels so much, him an' his friend, Pippin. Merry always visits my inn when they come through Bree, bless him. He's quite unlike any hobbit I've ever met, very adventurous and tall. I've known him for a long time, you know-before he went off adventuring with Pippin an' Sam an' the like. I actually met him _while_ he was adventuring, don't you know-  
Yes, of course. But do you know where he is now?  
As I said, his permanent home is (I believe) in Brandybuck, in The Shire. And if you can't find him there, most likely the hobbits there will know where e is. Strange place, Brandybuck-quite unlike the rest of The Shire. They're quite fond of boats there, and all the hobbits there are quite curious in every way. Barliman paused, and looked suspiciously at the man in front of him, who had not removed his hood. Now, hope you don't mind my askin', sir, but what business do you have with Merry?  
He is an old friend of mine-he saved my life when he was adventuring' as you put it. I have not seen Merry for some time, and I wish to stay with him. Now, if you don't mind innkeeper, I will take my leave.  
Barliman frowned after him. What a strange person, he said to himself. I wonder what that was all about?  
  


****  
  


A knock came on the door of Merry Brandybuck's hobbit hole, he parted reluctantly with his large dinner and went to answer it.  
He opened the door to a very ominously tall person, who was wearing a very ominous dark cloack, standing next to a very ominously big horse. Merry's first thought was _Strider!_ But no-this person looming over Merry was not Strider.  
Merry's hand strayed to his sword-hilt, before he remembered that he was not wearing one. Who are you, and what do you want? he said, fear making his voice harsh.   
Do you not recognize me, Merry? the person said quietly. Merry had a wild thought that it was Saruman, back from the dead, or a Black Rider, or one of the many enemies he had fought with Pippin, Sam, and Frodo. He was about to slam the door and run back inside when the figure lowered his hood.  
Merry stared. Unlike Legolas, he instantly recognized The White Lady of Rohan, even with her shorn hair. Dernhelm! I mean-Lady Eowyn!  
Eowyn smiled down upon him. Hello, Merry. It has been so long since we last met each other! She paused, while Merry gazed up at her, dumbfounded. May I come in?  
The hobbit started. I'm forgetting my manners-of course you may, my friend! He called inside, Pippin! Will you look who showed up on our doorstep? Turning back to Eowyn, he said, Here-why don't you go inside and say hello to Pippin, and I'll take your horse around back.  
He took care of Endumiel, giving her shelter in the shed behind his large estate and some oats. He then returned to the dining room to find Eowyn greedily drinking a warm mug of tea, while Pippin stared at her, open-mouthed.  
Merry was as shocked as Pippin. It was strange enough that the lady Éowyn had appeared on their doorstep with absolutely no warning; but she looked so unlike herself! All her beautiful hair was shorn, and her face was gaunt and pale. Merry thought he'd been right, calling her Dernhelm at first-for she more resembled that grim-faced, despairing warrior he'd ridden with than the woman he had grown to know afterwards.  
The hobbits ate a hearty meal while Eowyn watched (claiming she had already eaten) and they peppered her with questions: What have you been doing since we last met? How is Eomer? What are you doing this far north? Why did you cut your hair?  
That last question was from Pippin, and though Merry kicked him under the table, Eowyn did not grow angry or glum-she merely laughed, and said, It was getting in the way as I rode, so I chopped it all off.   
She then told them about her journey north, through Rohan, the Misty Mountains, and Mirkwood; she told them about her battle with the orcs and the strange village of Bree. She did not, however, say one word about Legolas or elves.  
The hobbits were satisfied with her tale, and they readied the guest room for her stay, putting two beds together so she could sleep comfortably. Eowyn fell asleep almost immediately (for she was weary from much travel), but was plagued by evil dreams: the same dreams she had suffered after battling the Witch King, in addition to a new, even worse dream:  
She was in the middle of a dense, dark forest, in a clearing surrounded by trees. She was tied to a wooden pole, and could not get free; she was surrounded by elves and orcs, jearing and yelling and throwing stones at her. In a corner of the clearing stood her horse, Endumiel; orcs surrounded her, throwing rocks and sticks-one massive goblin was poking her with a flaming brand, laughing as the poor beast screamed and kicked in fear. Eowyn screamed at them to stop it, but no sound came out of her mouth; she was helpless to stop the beating of her horse and herself.  
An elf stepped out of the crowd. She recognized him, and called his name, but Legolas only smiled, an evil, sickening grin. He stepped forward and grasped her neck, and she could not breathe, and then she was falling, falling into a deep abyss, and Legolas was above her laughing, and there was fire all around-  
She awoke gasping, and for the rest of the night forbade herself to sleep. She was Eowyn, Princess, Rider and Warrior of Rohan-she had never given in to an enemy in the outside world, and she promised herself, in that too-short bed in the village of Brandybuck, that she would never give in, not to enemies on the battlefield, and never, _ever_ to the demons in her own mind.


End file.
